“We quietly and secretly move our assets to another city in another country where we can launch a new financial empire under another name.”
Margaret visibly relaxed now that she began to realize that all was not lost, her lifestyle might not fall off the edge of the cliff after all. “What city and what country did you have in mind? Mexico? Brazil, perhaps?”
Cromwell grinned wickedly. “My dear sister, I can only hope Mr. Bell thinks as you do.”
He felt smug with self-satisfaction, believing that all he needed was no more than three hours in the morning to arrange for the shipment of the cash reserves from his bank. His paper assets had already been sent out of the country by telegraph when he went to the bank. Now all he and Margaret had to do was pack a few things and lock up the house, leaving it with a realtor to sell. Then it would be clear sailing, once they crossed the border and left the United States behind.
BELL SAT staring thoughtfully at a small fire in the fireplace of Marion’s apartment while she was busy in the kitchen. He had brought a bottle of California Beringer 1900 Cabernet Sauvignon and was halfway through a glass when Marion entered the dining room and began setting the table. He looked up and had a strong desire to walk over and press his lips to hers.
She looked stunning, with her fashionable hourglass silhouette of ample curves and full breasts. She wore a pink satin bodice of cascading lace that reached up under her chin and elongated her tall, graceful neck. The skirt was also pink and long and flowing like an inverted flowering lily. Even with her torso half covered by a large apron, she looked elegant.
Her straw blond hair shined under the light from the candles on the table. It was pulled back in a silky bun like a whorl behind her delicate ears. Bell suppressed his desire to kiss her and simply reveled at the sight of her.
“Nothing fancy,” she said, coming over and sitting on the arm of his chair. “I hope you like pot roast.”
“I have a passion for pot roast,” he said, losing all control and pulling her down onto his lap, where he kissed her long and ardently. She tensed, then trembled, and her eyes became huge and flashed a deep sea of green. As they drew apart, her poise altered. The eyes turned brazen and her expression spicy. Her breathing became quick, and she enjoyed the sensation of deep sensuality, a sensation that she had never experienced with another man. With slow deliberation, she eased out of his lap and stood shakily, brushing back a wisp of hair that had fallen along her temple.
“Enough of this, unless you want a burned pot roast.”
“How long do I have to suffer on an empty stomach?”
She laughed. “Ten more minutes. I’m waiting for the potatoes to soften.”
He watched as she returned to the kitchen, her walk as fluid as a gazelle’s.
As she set the bowls on the table, he refilled their glasses, and they sat down. They ate in silence for a few moments. Then Bell said, “Everything is delicious. You’ll make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day.”
The words came like a warm breeze across the nape of her neck and a flush of blood flowed across her breasts, hardening the nipples. Deep down, she hoped his feelings were moving in that direction, but she was also afraid that his affection might cool and he would walk off into the dark some evening, never to return.
Bell read Marion’s confusion and became afraid to go there. He changed the course of the conversation. “How long did Cromwell remain in the bank today?”
Her emotion quickly turned to anger. She was mad at herself for responding with the proper words instead of calmly expressing her feelings toward him. “Most of the time he spent in the office, he seemed very secretive. He also made three trips downstairs to the vault.”
“Do you have any idea of what he was about?”
She shook her head. “It seemed very mysterious.” Then she lifted her head and a small smile parted her lips. “But when he was in the vault, I sneaked into his office and glanced at the paperwork he had spread across his desk.”
He waited expectantly as she took a few moments to let him twist in the wind, as if getting even with him for ignoring her feelings for him. “He was filling out bank drafts and money transfers.”
“It figures. Our guess is that he and Margaret are going to skip out of the country and move the bank’s funds to their destination. There’s no way Cromwell will stay in town and fight us in federal court.”
“It would look that way,” said Marion quietly, wishing they could keep their time together more close and personal.
“Could you tell where he was sending the bank’s funds?”
She shook her head. “Only the amounts were filled in, not the banks that were to receive them.”
“What do you think he was doing in the vault?”
“My best guess is he was packing the bank’s cash reserves in crates in preparation to ship them to a bank in whatever city they’re going to.”
“You’re a very astute lady,” he said, smiling. “And if you were Jacob and Margaret, where would you go?”
“They wouldn’t be safe anywhere in Europe,” Marion answered without hesitation. “The banks on the Continent work with the U.S. government in freezing illegal funds. There are too many other countries where they could hide their money and begin building their empire again.”
“How about Mexico?” Bell asked, impressed with Marion’s intuition.
She shook her head. “Margaret could never live in Mexico. The land is too primitive for her tastes. Buenos Aires in Argentina is a possibility. The city is very cosmopolitan, but neither of them speaks a word of Spanish.”
“Singapore, Hong Kong, Shanghai,” suggested Bell. “Any of those cities hold any interest?”
